


take me home

by vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, aku cinta kamu, coda to 3x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: More than a lock, Alec gives Magnus something much more important. Coda to Aku Cinta Kamu.





	take me home

 

 

Magnus leans against the solid warmth of his lover’s chest; strong arms immediately encircle him, and he feels Alec smiling against his hair.

“What are you thinking?” Alec murmurs as they gaze at the golden lock together.

 _I’ve never said it to anyone,_ Magnus wants to say. _Words have a different meaning, a different impact, when it’s said in one’s native language._

_Seventeen thousand lovers, Alexander. Many of whom I’ve said the words ‘I love you’ countless times in a hundred different languages, yet meaning them far more rarely._

_You are the first one I’ve told through my beloved mother’s tongue._

The words catch in his throat. His heart feels too full, straining against his ribs like it’s close to bursting, like his chest can’t contain the infinite well of love he feels for one perfectly impossible man.

Centuries of living, and he has never felt love quite as intense, as overwhelming, as _frightening_ as this.

“Magnus?” Alec prompts hesitantly, tendrils of worry ribboning his tone, and _no,_ that won’t do—Alec should never, ever doubt what Magnus feels for him.

“Are you quite _sure_ you don’t wanna lock me up?” Magnus teases; sex is familiar ground, easier and safer to fall back on than the twisting coils of helpless emotion coursing through him more powerfully than any magic he’s ever known.

It’s a testament to how far they’ve come in their coupling when the once shy and skittish then-virgin now simply snorts. “Sure,” Alec easily assents, smirking when Magnus twists in his arms to stare at him in wide-eyed surprise. “I can tie you up against all these locks and sink to my knees before you. I’d swallow you down and you wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing ’til I’ve made you come. Twice, preferably. I’d love to test my stamina rune on you.”

 _Oh sweet mother of hell and damnation._ “I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist, Alexander,” Magnus says faintly, feeling light-headed as a shudder of anticipation and a rush of _want_ sparks from his groin all the way to the tips of his fingers. “Or that you had such a _filthy_ mouth.”

“I didn’t know either,” Alec grins, and Magnus huffs, half-disgruntled at and half-enamoured of the way his Shadowhunter lover is teasing him back. He pretends to disentangle himself from Alec’s arms in mock indignation; laughing, Alec catches his hands as he steps away and pulls Magnus back to himself.

“One other thing,” Alec gentles, rubbing his thumbs soothingly on Magnus’ wrists. “There’s something else I’d like to show you.”

Magnus stills at the way everything about Alec softens, and there it is—that timid young man Magnus first met and fell in love with, so unsure of his value and questioning his worthiness of being loved. It makes Magnus’ heart _ache,_ though he’s spared from dwelling on it as Alec tugs him forward and guides Magnus’ hands to rest on his chest.

Magnus can’t help it as he remarks slyly, “If you’re showing me your pectorals, I can already tell you how much I _love_ feeling them up—”

“ _Magnus!_ ” Alec exclaims, patches of embarrassed pink blossoming on his cheeks and feathering his nose. “By the Angel, you have a one track mind.”

Magnus grins. “Can you blame me?” he asks innocently as he squeezes said pectorals, which are _magnificent._ “Thank Raziel for Shadowhunter training.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Focus,” he reprimands lightly, and presses Magnus’ fingers pointedly at the centre of his chest.

Something hard and solid presses back from beneath the fabric of Alec’s shirt.

Magnus furrows his brows. “Are you wearing a necklace, darling?”

Alec’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Of sorts,” he hedges. “Why don’t you take them out?”

Magnus tilts his head thoughtfully at him, concerned by the nervousness in his lover’s hazel eyes. He slips his fingers inside the neck of Alec’s shirt and finds the chain hidden beneath. He carefully pulls it out and lets it dangle in front of him.

The twin pendants clink against each other. Magnus suddenly finds it very hard to breathe.

“Luke’s been teaching me about Mundane history,” Alec explains softly when Magnus won’t— _can’t—_ speak. He closes steady fingers over Magnus’ trembling ones. “They’re called dog tags.”

“I know what they’re called,” Magnus whispers, sparing a fleeting thought to wonder if Alec is playing a callous trick on him—he hasn’t even told him about George yet. “Do you know what they’re for, Alexander?”

“Yes,” Alec answers solemnly. “It’s for identifying the bodies of dead soldiers.”

Alec holds firm when Magnus starts to break away. “You aren’t this heartless, Alexander,” Magnus says desperately, feeling his eyes sting at the undeniable reminder of Alec’s _mortality_.

Startled hurt flashes briefly in Alec’s eyes before he steels them; despite his trepidation, Magnus’ breath catches in awe of the different sides Alec is showing him in quick succession: his playfulness and romanticism as a lover, his vulnerability and insecurity as a young man, and then this—his determination as a Shadowhunter, as a _soldier._

“Look closer, Magnus,” Alec insists, and Magnus softens at the tremor he can hear in those stubborn words. “Please.”

Alec releases his hands slowly. Helpless to deny him anything, Magnus braces himself as he raises the dog tags for closer inspection.

His lips part in a soft gasp when the elegant, cursive words glitter in the sunlight.

Alec smiles gently, nudging Malec’s forehead affectionately with his own. “I had Clary design it,” he murmurs. “Your name deserves better than my crappy handwriting.”

Weeks of dating, and centuries of living, and Magnus _still_ gets thrown into a loop by this adorably confusing son of Raziel. “I don’t understand, Alexander. Why…” he shakes his head and stares up at this man he loves above all, warmth and heat emanating from those soulful hazel eyes. “Why engrave my name on such a glaring symbol of your mortality?”

Alec’s hand comes up to cup his jaw; sighing, Magnus leans into the welcome touch. “Because of the life we lead, Magnus,” Alec says gently. “We’re always gonna be at war, not just because of Valentine or Jonathan—though of course he’s our biggest problem at the moment—but he’s not gonna be our _only_ problem.”

Both hands are cupping his face now; Magnus can feel the archer’s calluses digging into the soft skin of his neck, his cheeks, the sensitive spots behind his ears as Alec holds him, firm and unyielding. “I’m the Head of the Institute, Magnus. And you’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn. It’s always gonna be a life of battle for us, and we both know neither of us would choose otherwise. Because as different as we are, this is our common ground.”

Alec steps closer, ever closer, tilting Magnus’ face toward him, and Magnus' throat constricts with terrible, haunted emotions he can’t dare name. “We will always fight for what we believe in, for what is right, and for the people we love, even at the cost of our own lives.”

Alec smiles softly at him, earnest and trembling, and Magnus reaches up to curl his fingers around the Shadowhunter’s wrists as he simply holds on, feeling like he’s falling through a portal with no destination in sight. “We both don’t know how to love in moderation, Magnus. It’s all or nothing for us. For the love of our people, our family. For the love of all life, Shadowhunters and Downworlders and Mundanes alike. And most of all—”

Alec’s voice finally breaks. “For each other,” he chokes.

The kiss is powerful and fierce as Magnus leaps up to capture Alec’s trembling mouth and thread his fingers through the hair at Alec’s nape to keep him there. _You’ve ruined me, Alexander,_ he thinks as the kiss turns desperate and dirty, Magnus swallowing Alec’s moan as he plunges his tongue inside Alec’s hot, wet mouth, mapping and memorising and claiming _. You’ve ruined me for anyone else._

Alec’s arms wind around Magnus’ back as he gives as good as he gets, pulling their bodies flush together and making them both groan as their hips slot together in perfect synchronicity, grinding and rutting, desperate to be as close as the barrier of their clothes allow. _I can never want anyone else like this. There will never be another you, Alexander._

The need for air makes itself known as they break apart in a gasp; not wanting to be parted just yet, Magnus holds Alec against him, foreheads touching as they close their eyes and simply breathe together.

_There will never again be a love like the one I have for you, my beloved Nephilim._

“Why my name?” Magnus whispers as he traces the letters resting against Alec’s chest. “Alexander, if you’re wearing these dog tags for the same purpose they were once made for, shouldn’t it contain your name instead?”

Alec’s thumb brushes Magnus’ lips sweetly; Magnus returns the gesture by mouthing wetly at the centre of Alec’s palm, delighting in the shiver it courses through his lover’s body. He nips at the flesh at the juncture of Alec’s thumb and wrist, teeth electrifying Alec as his tall stature folds into Magnus with a whimper.

“Because when I die—and I _will_ die, Magnus—” Alec presses a tender kiss on each of Magnus’ eyelids when he squeezes his eyes shut at the painful thought. “Whether it’d be through old age or through the glory of battle, if I get killed by a demon or a rogue Shadowhunter or hell, run over by a Mundane vehicle or something—”

“How anticlimactic,” Magnus mutters, and Alec laughs softly, wrapping Magnus in a tight embrace.

“When I die, Magnus,” Alec murmurs into his hair, “if Fate happens to be cruel enough to make it happen when I’m not with you, and I don’t get to spend the rest of whatever short life I have left with you—”

“ _Alexander_ — _”_

“I want my body to be returned to you.”

Magnus logically knows he’s immortal, but he _swears_ his heart has just stopped. “What?”

Frozen in Alec’s arms, Magnus lets himself be pulled away as Alec steps back to gaze seriously into his eyes. “Soldiers die in battle all the time—sometimes in a way that leaves their body unrecognisable. It’s why dog tags are invented, so the survivors of war can identify the body and know to whom it should come home to.”

Magnus’ vision is blurring; to his horror, he realises his eyes are filling with tears he cannot stop. “Alexander…”

Alec smiles—more beatific than any angel, more entrapping than any demon—and Magnus has to remind himself to _breathe_.

“Nephilim love only once, and fiercely,” his beautiful Shadowhunter lover, the man he loves, declares in a soft whisper. “If I am to love only one—if I should _belong_ to only one—I want it to be you. Magnus Bane.”

The kiss this time is tender and vulnerable in the way Magnus’ lips cling to Alec’s, lingering.

“I don’t want to lock you up, literally,” Alec murmurs against Magnus’ lips after a small eternity. “Though I’ll be your dom anytime you like, ‘cause I know you have a thing for me being all authoritative and I do like bossing you around in bed—”

“The _point,_ Alexander,” Magnus chuckles as he buries his face at the juncture of Alec’s neck and shoulder. “Or I _will_ take you right here, regardless of who has the Sight to see us.”

He can feel Alec’s amusement as his lips quirk against Magnus’ temple. “You know I don’t take that as a threat, right?”

“Rather an invitation?” Magnus pulls back, feeling a shiver run through his spine at the molten heat in Alec’s gaze. “I do believe, darling, that you were making a point? I’d like to hear it, especially if it’s a safeword.”

Alec grins with a devilish glint in those normally angelic eyes. “How about… ‘ _Lorenzo’_?”

“How about I banish you to Edom for even suggesting that?”

Alec laughs, bright and uninhibited—and Magnus finds himself falling deeply, irrevocably, eternally in love all over again.

“I don’t want to lock you up, Magnus,” Alec repeats, gentle and serious now, “because you’re not a thing to be possessed, or a prize to be won, or a pet to be caged.”

Magnus holds his breath as Alec caresses his cheek with the back of a runed hand. “But you are, and always will be, my home. And I will always belong to you.”

He catches Alec’s hand on his own and threads their fingers together. He glances at his name, resting right above Alec’s heart—a declaration, an oath, and a question all in one.

And Magnus knows he has to answer.

“Take me home, Alexander.”

Those hazel eyes widen slightly in surprise before Alec’s features settle into a fascinating mix of wonder and mischief. “Really? We’re doing the dom thing _now_?”

“Yes,” Magnus replies enigmatically, “and something much more important than that.”

Alec looks down as Magnus places his palm over the twin pendants on Alec’s heart. Magic pulses beneath his fingers, sparkling and warm.

“Magnus?” Alec’s brows are knitted in confusion. “What did you just do?”

Smiling, Magnus gently turns his hand over to show him.

Alec inhales sharply at the addition in the engraving.

_Magnus Bane-Lightwood._

“Take me home,” Magnus softly entreats, “because I want to belong to you, too.”

 

 

 


End file.
